


Wasteland, baby

by word_processing



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: 00Q Reverse Bang, BAMF Q (James Bond), Blanket Permission, Bond finds this very sexy, Canon-Typical Violence, Hacker Q (James Bond), Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Art, Intimacy, James Bond Has a Crush, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mission Fic, Q is as good with a gun as he is with a keyboard, Q just wants to do his job, Slow Burn, Spycraft, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/word_processing/pseuds/word_processing
Summary: Q just wants to live his life. To put his past a hacker behind him and try to live a normal life. Then a handsome man with blue eyes grabs him while he's out shopping and his life take a different turn. After that, James Bond keeps interrupting his life until it feels like there is no escaping him. And Q finds that he doesn't want to.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 21
Kudos: 525
Collections: 2019-2020 00Q Reverse Big Bang





	1. H&M, Camden Town, London, circa 2006

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oldestcharm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldestcharm/gifts).



> Thank you so much to oldestcharm for their lovely artwork (embedded in chapter 4).  
> Thank you so much to Chestnut NOLA for doing the 00Q RBB again this year. 
> 
> This started as a 5+1 and then it took sort of a turn and I fell more in love with Q as someone who loves danger and getting into trouble. I hope you like it!

Q was in an H&M in Camden Town, trying to find something to buy with the £30 in his pocket. He had an interview with a social media start-up and wanted to look like he knew what he was doing. Of course, Q didn’t know what he was doing, but he was 24 with a Ph.D. in computer science and a warrant for his arrest in six countries for hacking, so he had to do something. A good tech job for a good, up-standing millennial citizen would do the trick.

Q had been staring at the same £25 blazer and trouser set for five minutes, trying to decide if he shouldn’t try to come up with something else or maybe finally call his parents and ask for money so he could buy a decent suit. They would understand. He wanted to get a good job, and he couldn’t do that dressing on a waiter’s salary.

“There are you are, love. I lost you over there by the shoes.” A voice said, causally, if a little out of breath as Q’s arm was grabbed and he was pulled away.

“What?” Q asked, bewildered and indignant. He looked up at the person who had grabbed him. The man’s blonde hair was cut close to his head, and his eyes were bright blue. He was handsome if a little roughed up. There was a bruise healing on his cheek, and his lip was split.

The man glanced at him, his face severe. As he walked them out of the store, the man picked up a brimmed hat, ripped off the tag, and set it over his short hair. He did the same with an expensive scarf and handed it to Q. “When we get outside, put it on.” It wasn’t a request.

“What? Excuse me, this is stealing. And I’m pretty sure this is also kidnapping.” Q didn’t make a scene, though. The same dangerous curiosity that caused him to join an online hacking group when he was 17 and get his alias on six countries most-wanted lists by 22 burned inside him. He needed to know where this lead.

Once they were outside, Q put on the scarf. His arm was now hooked with his blond capture’s, and they walked a few blocks towards Regent’s Park, where there were more people. It was a chilly April day, and families were out walking, couples were on their way to lunch, businesspeople were trying to get to meetings. They faded into the crowd. The man looked at him again and smiled a little.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” Q asked, smiling back. It was like they were sharing a little secret.

“I can’t tell you. For your own safety.”

Q snorted, sure it was a line. “Like if you tell me then, you’ll have to kill me?”

Something flashed across the man’s face. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Q was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Will you at least buy me a coffee? It’s the least you could do for kidnapping me.”

“Fine, I can do that.” The man took Q to a small coffee cart, and they ordered. He paid in cash, and they huddled together to the side for a minute. The man’s eyes were never still, always looking around. He looked back towards where they had come from, and Q noticed the smallest change in his posture.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

“I’m sorry; come again?”

“Trust me.”

Q didn’t, but that sick need for danger and adventure rose in him again, and Q didn’t do anything when the man kissed him.

Q had been kissed before, but this felt new. For one, he could tell the man’s attention was elsewhere. Still, Q had put the situation together well enough during their walk that he understood what was happening. This man was running from someone, and Q was a decoy. They were looking for one person, not two. They were meant to be lovers, so Q leaned into the kiss, playing the loving boyfriend so this man could keep their cover. Both their lives were on the line now.

Finally, the man pulled away. He stared at Q and only briefly glanced up over Q’s shoulder. For the first time, Q got a good look at those eyes. There were so blue that Q had thought they were color contact at first but in that moment he could see the man’s whole soul behind them. He was sharp, always on his guard and ready for anything. He was funny, there was a gleam there that was completely endearing. He was haunted, Q could practically see the traumas play out like a movie. He was a puzzle, and, in that moment, Q wanted to spend his life figuring it out.

The man licked his lips, looking at Q with that gleam in his eyes, and Q would have let him get away with anything. He made Q want to do bad things. Dangerous things. Things that would get him another six arrest warrants.

“I should get you home.” That voice at once made him want to wrap himself up in the man and reminded him why he was trying to leave this behind. He had a home. A family. “Thank you for your help.”

Q nodded, “Yes, of course. Not a problem. I am keeping the scarf, though.”

The man laughed, “Of course.”

They walked arm in arm to the Great Portland Street Station, and the man bought them each a ticket. “When you get on the train, take off the scarf. Take the tube a few stations and get off, then make your way home.”

Q nodded and took the ticket, staring at it. It was for the Bond Street station. He looked at those blue eyes again and gave another nod. The man nodded back and took off the cap, walking down the platform and out of sight.

<><><>

Q went to his interview with the start-up. In the room was not the man he had been talking to. A man who had been about his age. Instead, there was a woman a little older than his mother sitting there with a file in front of her. Q, confusion all over this face, sat down. “Ma’am?”

“Hugo Evans,” she said, opening the file and looking over the papers again. “Born and raised in London to an English father and Russian mother. One older brother and a twin sister who you don’t speak to much. A Ph.D. in computer science from Cambridge by the age of 20. And warrants out in six countries for your arrest for hacking and leaking government and corporate information.” The woman’s voice was even, though the threat was clear.

Q took a breath to keep his voice even. “I’m afraid you have the wrong man, ma’am. I’m just here for a job interview. You…They were looking for a security software designer.”

“You are not the hacker named ‘The Question’? Or Q for short?” She asked, but it wasn’t really a question.

“Ma’am-“

“You’re right about one this, Mr. Evans, this is a job interview. But not for a start-up. I work for someone who can make these warrants disappear.” She set the six warrants out in front of him. None of them had his real name, just his alias.

“Who?” Q asked excitement and curiosity, making him lean forward a little.

“MI6. How would you like to serve your country, Mr. Evans?”

The smile that slowly spread across Q’s face was more dangerous than a loaded gun.


	2. London, England, circa 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugo Evans is on a date with a very handsome man and then he gets a work call.

Q was on a date with a nice guy named Philip. They had hit it off over coffee the first date, then again over dinner last night, so when he had asked Q if he wanted to see the latest action flick Q had said yes because he had this weekend off. Philip’s smile made something flip in his stomach. Then Philip had shown up in a white button-up that was a little too small, and it made his golden-brown skin even more beautiful, and Q lost it. They had spent the entire first hour of the film kissing in the back of the theater. Frankly, Q couldn’t be more pleased with how this was going.

Until his phone went off. It was his work phone, which meant he couldn’t ignore it. “I’m sorry,” Q said apologetically, pulling the buzzing device from his pocket. “I’ll be just a moment. I have to take this.” He extracted himself from Philip’s arms and stepped out of the theater as he answered the phone with a curt “Evans.”

“Evans, good. I need your help.” A brisk English voice said. He sounded like he was asking about last night’s football game though he left no room to argue.

Still, Q did. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Agent 007. I know we haven’t met yet, but I’m in a bit of a bind. I heard you were our best hacker.”

“I am, but I’m afraid I’m busy and-“

“Evans, if you don’t help me in the next ten minutes, my cover will be blown, and I’ll be dead. Do you want to tell M and Q why you let their favorite Double-O die because you were busy Snapchatting or whatever you kids do nowadays?”

Q rolled his eyes so hard that it hurt. “Bloody hell, fine. What do you need? Be aware, I’m not near a computer.”

“Well, get near one. I’m in a Spanish R&D firm, we think they are developing chemical weapons to be sold on the black market, but we don’t have the smoking gun yet. So to speak. They’ve left me alone in this office, but I don’t know for long. I need to get into the bank records. We have about ten or fifteen minutes at best until they realize my ID is fake, and I’m not supposed to be here.”

Q blew out a breath. “Okay, get on the computer. Do you have a flash drive? Is it MI6 issued?”

“Yes, I have them. Q gave it to me before I left.”

“Good. I made it, so I know how to access it remotely. Just plug it in when I say so, and I’ll do the rest of the work.” Q started to walk quickly but trying not to arouse suspicion. “Do I want to know why you have an MI6 issued flash drive, but your identification is too flimsy to withstand a standard check?” he hung a hard right and saw the glass storefront ahead.

“I lost it. Had to improvise.”

“Right. I see you can’t be trusted with equipment.”

007’s voice was starting to sound familiar, and Q’s mind showed him a picture of blue eyes that he hadn’t thought about in a while. He swallowed.

He stepped into the Apple store he’s seen across the street and made a show of browsing before he found the most powerful laptop they had on the floor and opening the browser. “Okay, I don’t have a lot of time. Someone is going to try to sell me something here pretty soon.” Q held the phone against his shoulder as he typed.

“Where are you?”

“Apple Store. It was the closest thing I could think of. Like I said, I was busy. Plug it in now. I’ll get into their systems, and you figure out what you need to bring back to the office.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes. Q keeping up with 007’s requests for access. Finally, a sales assistant came up to him, and Q swiped over to open movie editing software.

“Can I help you with something?” A man not much older than Q asked as if he was the expert in the conversation.

Q smiled politely, “I’m on the phone with my boyfriend. He’s on a work trip, but I promised I would come in and look at a Mac. He’s a documentary filmmaker.” Q sounded very proud, and he heard 007 chuckle on the other end. The sound was warm and familiar and reminded him of the stolen scarf in the back of his closet. “He was thinking of switching from a PC. I’ve been trying to convince him to do it for years.”

The man smiled brightly and gave Q the talking points on Macs and their editing software. Q smiled politely and nodded, hoping 007 didn’t need anything else from him. He heard the agent say, “I’ve got it. Getting out now. I’ll be back in London tomorrow.”

“Thanks, I think I have everything I need. I’ll come back when he’s in town.” Q said abruptly, cutting the Apple employee off and making his excuses to leave. “Are you going to be able to get out safely?” He asked once he was back on the street.

“Yes, I shouldn’t have a problem. No one is looking for me yet.”

Q was sure about it now. This was the man who had given him a stole scarf and bought him coffee and handed him a metro ticket. The man with blue eyes that held so many stories and reawaken the part of him that wanted danger.

It shouldn’t be a surprise. He knew 007’s reputation. The man was danger. Death in a well-tailored suit. A man who kissed like sin. A man who was a bad idea. Q had a nasty habit of getting trouble with bad ideas.

“Okay. I’ll…Maybe I’ll see you at the office then.”

“Maybe.” 007 knew too. He knew who Q was now.

There was a pause. Q had started walking home. “Did you keep it? The scarf?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

007 hung up. Q walked five more blocks before he remembered Philip. Handsome, kind, safe Philip. He sent him a text saying he got called away with a work emergency and that he was sorry. That he would call him. Q never did call him again. Maybe that made him an asshole, but there would only be one job, one life, and maybe one man that would be enough.


	3. Waterstones, Wandsworth, London, circa 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q is at a bookstore just minding his own business. He didn't expect this.

Q, who was once again Q and not Evans, had met James Bond, aka Agent 007, aka the man with the blue eyes, when the world was falling apart. Bond’s eyes were just as blue and just as sharp, but he was more tired more haunted, his humor seem to have been bled out of him. Perhaps it had been.

And yet, when he sat there and looked at those blue eyes, he felt like he did when he was standing in Regent’s Park with coffee and a scarf that no one had paid for. He wondered what that was all about. If Q had been a younger man, a more foolish man, a less experienced man, he might have said it was love. But Q wasn’t in love with 007. He was simply fascinated. Fascinated because no one had even looked at him like that. Like they saw him.

Not to mention, Bond was an annoyance. He was always losing equipment. Always bothering Q when he was working. Always looking at him like Q was the whole world.

If Q wanted to be bothered by people from work, he wouldn’t have gone across the river and all the way to Wandsworth to buy a book. He was standing in Waterstones, looking at the mystery novels with some ambivalence when he heard someone cough in the next row over. He frowned because it was a sound he recognized. He had heard it over the comms before when an agent had let a wound go too long. The sort of tragic cough of a person just about to go downhill from consumption.

He poked his head around the corner, and there was James Bond, leaning against the shelf and wrapped up in a navy-blue coat. It hid the blood seeping through, but only if you didn’t know what to look for. “Fuck, Bond, what are you doing here?”

“Followed you from the office.”

He said that like it wasn’t creepy and also insane.

“You need to go to Medical, Bond.”

“No.” Those blue eyes finally caught Q’s, and he knew there was no arguing with Bond.

“Very well, come on.” He stood close to Bond has they walked outside, and Q hailed a taxi.

Bond was silent the whole ride home and in the lift up to Q’s flat. “I have cats. If you’re allergic, that’s your problem.” He didn’t know why he sounded so angry. Maybe it was Bond’s body heat seeping through his jacket or yet another interruption to his life. Or the way Bond’s lips were starting to go pale.

Q sat Bond down on his bed and went into the bathroom, finding some towels and his first-aid kit. When he returned, Bond was somehow shirtless, his clothes lay in a neat pile at the foot of the bed. He had been kind enough not to bleed on Q’s duvet.

“Here,” Q said, pouring some rubbing alcohol on a hand towel and handed it to Bond. “This will sting like hell, but it will keep it from getting infected. Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“A crowbar just the French side in the Channel Tunnel. It was rather convenient as I’m not technically allowed to operate on British soil.”

“So? What did you? Did they get away?”

The smile Bond gave was brief but that of a wolf. One whose fur had been matted with blood for years now. Q knew it well and wanted to know it better.

“Lay back,” Q said, sliding a towel under Bond. “I’m going to bandage you up. Are you sure it didn’t hit any organs?”

“Reasonably,” Bond grunts as he leaned back on his elbows.

“That’s so reassuring,” Q rolled his eyes and worked silently.

His fingers kept brushing the warm skin on Bond’s stomach, the muscles well defined under the skin. Bond kept looking at him like the world revolved around him. It felt like a lot of responsibility. To be the most important thing in this man’s life. A man so intense that being in his gaze almost hurt.

Q had to look away and focus on his work. He might have pressed a little too hard at the wound with a towel to clean the blood, but that was his business. Bond merely grunted and continued to watch Q. Once Q had secured the bandage in place, Bond sat up, and they were suddenly face to face. Q half kneeling on the ground while Bond loomed over him. Loom might be the wrong word. Bond looked at him the way Q’s mother used to look at pictures of Orthodox saints. It made it difficult to breathe. That sort of devotion seemed misplaced and unwarranted.

Q wasn’t sure who moved first, but any difficulty breathing was fixed when their lips touched. Q drew in a breath, and Bond drew him close with an arm around his waist. Q found himself crawling onto the bed and pressing Bond down to lay on the duvet.

Q had his shirt off, and Bond’s trousers undone by the time he pulled back to catch his breath. “Are we sure about this?”

Bond’s lips were pink again, and his blue eyes were blown wide with arousal. He trailed a hand down Q’s flat stomach and popped the button of his jeans. “Yeah, we’re sure.”

Q nodded, a little dazed as he pushed his hair back and set his glasses aside, reaching into his side table to find lube and a condom.

Q rather enjoyed Bond’s hands on him, they were large and calloused and burned a hot trail along his skin. He leaned over Bond and started to tug at the man’s trousers when he felt a strong arm around his waist, lift him up, and then suddenly, he was on his back. He let out a breathless, happy laugh as he bounced on the bed. Bond was leaning over him now, a small smile at his lips, eyes full of mischief. He seemed at ease in that moment, and Q wanted to bottle this feeling up.

They each worked their own trousers down, and Bond slicked up his fingers. He made eye contact with Q for a moment before pressing his middle finger inside Q, and Q found it difficult to breathe again. He let out breathless gasps until he found himself sinking into the feeling, and his grip on Bond’s shoulders loosened.

Bond seemed content to look at him, so Q forced his eyes open to look back at him, hazel eyes meeting blue for what felt like the first time since that coffee stand in Regent’s Park. Q had to look away, or he felt like he was going to catch fire or do something equally undignified.

Q seemed to have missed most of the prep, which was fine by him, but he still let out a gasp at the loss of Bond’s fingers. He bit his lip as Bond slipped the condom on and he wondered how this was going to fuck up their working relationship. It hardly mattered though when Bond pushed into him. Q let out a gasp and held James close where he had pressed his face into Q’s neck. Like he needed to be shielded from the sheer intensity of this moment.

James.

Yes, he could be James for just one evening.

“You’re quiet,” James remarked as he looked at Q. It was almost a question.

“Is that a problem?” Q managed to sound almost like he wasn’t having some of the best sex of his life.

James shook his head and kissed him, so neither of them had to feel the need to make a sound.

It was over too quickly, and Q bit into James’ lip, drawing blood as he came. He wasn’t sure if it was the bite or Q’s organism that drove James over the edge, but he held the man moan and distantly realized that wasn’t a sound he’d heard over comms before.

Q laid on the bed, catching his breath. He was aware of James getting up and going into the bathroom, getting a warm cloth and cleaning them both up. Still, he didn’t open his eyes again until James was lying on the bed again. He was on the opposite end, turned on his side to look at Q. Q turned to mirror the position and stuck his arm out to bridge the vast expanse of the bed between them. James did the same, and their fingers tangled together.

In that long moment, Q had never felt more understood. James seemed to see the part inside him that wanted out. Wanted to feel and do and see. The voice in his head that said he should do the bad thing, the dangerous thing, the chaotic thing. He saw all of that welcomed it. He understood it. He sympathized. And he…he loved it.

Q squeezed his hand.

“I shouldn’t stay,” James said quietly after a minute in a voice that was both resolved and disappointed.

Q nodded, “I know.”

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

Q almost said that he didn’t have to, that Q was fine, but he wanted James to stay. And he could see that James wanted to stay as well.

“Okay.”

<><><>

When Q woke up, the flat was empty. Bond’s clothes were gone, and all the bloody towels and bandages were cleaned up and disposed of somewhere. If it wasn’t for the ache he felt, he would have thought it was all a dream.


	4. Tesco, Camden Town, London, circa 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't really Bond's fault. +Artwork by the amazing oldestcharm!

Q was staring a shelf of cat food, trying to remember which one he had purchased last time when he heard a shout, a gunshot, and then a scream. He immediately hit the floor and crept away from the voices even has a man in a heavy accent said “Get on the fucking ground! I want everyone to come out slowly and line up in front of the counter here!”

Q did neither of those things and instead he worked his way to the back of the store, peeking out when he could to count the men and then guns.

He saw four men with four handguns and one semi-automatic. Q couldn’t help because start thinking of the work that would be needed for the arms trafficking case that was going to emerge from this. The Tesco had been busy as it was a Friday at 5:30 and it didn’t look like a lot of people had made it out. So, there were plenty of hostages to worry about.

Q needed backup.

He pulled out his phone and was about to call 999 and then HQ when his phone screen lite up. The caller was none other than James Bond. The one time he was glad to be intruded upon.

“Bond, I-“

“Q, are you in the Tesco in Camden?”

“Yes. Bloody hell, how did you know that?” Q hissed into the phone, his back pressed against one of the aisle endcaps, keeping his eyes out for gunmen.

“MI5 is on their way with Metro. We were all in M’s office when we heard, Moneypenny said it was the one closest to your house.”

Bond sounded almost worried. Q was about to comment when Bond continued. “I’m on my way now. Is there a way in from the back? MI5 is going to try to talk these guys down, but we know how that is going to go.”

“Four gunmen, five guns, one is a semi-auto. Plenty of hostages. Maybe fifty.” Q rattled off because he knew it was the most pressing thing. Bond would rely it to the proper authorities. “But you can’t come in here. There’s nothing you can do but make the situation worse. I don’t even know if there is a way in.”

Then Q saw it, an exit door a little way up the back wall. He was staring right at it. He just had to get there. “Wait, there’s a door on the west side of the building. Give me five minutes.” He hung up and started to work his way towards the door when a fifth gunmen, a young man this time, came up the aisle and spotted Q.

It happened why quicker than Q would have preferred. The man pulled his gun and opened his mouth to alert the others and Q put one hand over the gunman’s mouth and the other on the gun, shoving it down and away from him. They struggled and Q got the gun out of the man’s hands and managed to get a hand over his mouth and nose and the other around the man’s neck.

The struggle was blessedly covered by a commotion at the front of the store. MI5 and the police had arrived to try to handle the situation. After what felt like forever, the man lost consciences and Q laid him gently on the ground so not to make any more noise. He picked up the gun and ran the rest of the way to the side door, opening it in time to see Bond getting out of a MI6 issued Audi and walking up to him.

Q was out of the breath and his jumper rumpled and Bond seemed to take that as a bad sign. “Are you okay?” He asked, stepping into the store and not making Q escape with him. Q didn’t even think about using the door to escape from. That probably said a lot about him.

“Fine. I just met the fifth gunman. But I handled it.” He gestured with the gun to the gunman on the floor.

“Do you know how to use that thing?” Bond asked, all snark.

Q was about to reply with something equally snarky when he said a voice say “Where the fuck is Mickey? He should be back by now? Hey Mickey? You good?” Q stiffened and turned to see another gunman walking up the aisle towards them. “What the fuck?” The man started and Q didn’t hesitant, raising the gun and firing one shot the landed between the man’s eyes.

He looked at Bond and saw blue eyes that shone with lust and affection and pride. He looked away again because there were still three more gunmen and hostages.

“MI5 will have heard that shot. They’re going to come in here at any minute, thinking they’re killing hostages. We need a plan.”

“What the fuck? Who’s there? You better come out here right now and drop your weapon or I’m going to start killing hostages.”

A plan formed in Q’s mind and he glanced at Bond, wondering if he trusted him enough to do this. To take control and run this mission. He supposed, that’s what Bond did every day. “I’m coming out. Don’t hurt anyone.” Q shouted back, handing the gun to Bond. “Cover me,” he whispered and walked down the aisle, picking up the gun from the dead man and stepping out into the view of the gunmen.

“I’m right here. There’s no need for anyone else to get hurt.” Q said, putting his hands up and dropping the gun but he didn’t kick it away.

He heard the squeak of an expensive shoe a few aisles over and just as the largest of the gunmen was raising his semi-automatic weapon to be level with Q’s face. Bond fired three shots. Two hit the large gunman and one hit the one behind him. The last gunman bewildered and clearly not having planned for this sort of resistance turned to face them and figure out what was happening. In that moment, Q dropped down to his knees and grabbed his discarded weapon, firing one last shot to bring the last gunman to his knees.

Bond was sitting on the floor, leaning against the end of an aisle and looking at Q like he’d just had the best afternoon of his life. “Is this why you Millennials do all your shopping online?”

Q burst out laughing, a bit hysterical and dropped to his hands and knees for a moment to breath. “Fuck off,” he said with a great deal of affection.

Q stood up as MI5 burst in the doors, searching for the threat. Q let the agent in charge get about two words in before he pulled rank with a curt, “I’ll stop you right there, Agent.” Q gave his statement and then informed him that he and his agent were leaving. When the man’s balked at that, Q replied with, “If you have a problem you can take it up with the Director.” Which shut the man up because no one was going to make a fuss to Mallory.

Bond was standing by the Audi, looking incredibly pleased. He had clearly liked watching Q pull rank like that. “I see I’ve been underestimating you, Quartermaster.”

“I’m aware. You have since the first day. I hope you won’t make the mistake again.”

They were standing so close that if anyone saw them, there would be no denying what they were to each other. Or at the very least, what sort of things they had done together. Just that thought brought back the memory of the night a few weeks before. James’ body was radiating the same heat.

James. Just this once. James.

“Let me drive you home.”

“I like three blocks from here.”

“I know.”

They were breathing the same air now and Q’s blood was singing but he had to protest. If for no other reason than his pride. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a bad idea. You’re dangerous.”

“I think you like dangerous. I think you’re just as dangerous as I am.”

Q let out a breath like it was being forced from him. James saw him and knew him and didn’t reject him. They were one in the same and still…

“I shouldn’t… I’m not supposed to.”

James grabbed Q’s elbow, “Not supposed to what? Like it? Need it? Get off on it? There’s nothing wrong with you. Fuck Q, you’re perfect.”

Q kissed him. Hard and full of teeth and gasping for breath. James kissed back, the hand on his elbow holding him close. Q bit James’ lip until he tasted blood and the agent moaned.

Q pulled back and then took a step away.

“Let me give you a ride home.”

“No.” Q smiled with a smear of James’ blood on his lip. He licked the blood away as he turned around and walked away.

As he did, he heard Bond lean against the car and muttered, “Fucking kids these days.”


	5. Berlin, Germany, circa 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q is on vacation and this time when Bond shows up, he finds he's rather pleased about it. Until the agent informs him that there are people after him.

Q was standing in the Alte Nationalgalerie in Berlin and he was pretty sure he was being followed. It was entirely possible that he was being followed by someone from the German government. He was one of the department head of British Intelligence and MI6 would have done the same if it were a German intelligence officer at the National Gallery but something about this made him uneasy. So instead of letting it go he lingered in the Sculpture Hall and then doubled back into the previous room like he had gotten mixed up.

Someone was indeed following him. Tall and handsome with glasses over dark eyes and dark hair. Q, being an adult male with eyes, almost decided to turn around and see if maybe this guy was just interested in getting drinks. Q, the British agent with brains, decided it was best to leave through the gift shop and try to lose him.

He lingered in the gift shop, picking up a book here or a mug there as he weaved in and out of the five or so people in the same room. Q picked up a book on the German navy only to have the man standing beside him say, “Looks like a book about some bloody big ships.”

Q didn’t scream but he did bite his tongue and fumble with the book. “Bloody hell, Bond,” he whispered, glancing up at the man. James was wearing glasses and a beany, he looked like a uni professor trying to be cool. In fact, he looked like the uni professor Q had lusted after when he was in school.

For a split second, Q had through it had been James following him through the museum but his hair under the hat was still dirty blonde and his eyes that startling blue. “What are you doing here? I’m meant to be on holiday, and you’re meant to be radio silent in the Czech Republic.” Q opened the book and started to pretend to read. James did the same with a book he picked up.

“So sorry to disturb, Q, but you’re in danger I’m afraid. Someone got ahold of your travel plans and these people I’ve been tracking intend to hold you for ransom.” James’ voice was soft and even, the voice he used when he wanted to be genuine and kind. “I’ve got to get you out of here. I have the information we need to arrest them for arms dealing but I need to get you to safety and have your help decrypting it.”

With a deep breath, Q started to close the book and put it back. “Okay, we’ll rendezvous at Safehouse Four in two hours. That should give me enough time to lose this tail and-”

“Buy the book.”

“What?” Q looked back up at James and his eyes were no less intense because of the glasses. Q felt like the world was closing in and it was just going to be him and those eyes.

“You’ve spent too long looking at it, you have to buy it now. And let’s make it Safehouse Two in one hour. I’ll handle the tail. These people want to get this done tonight. I can’t risk losing you.”

Q swallowed. Lines like that should be banned. “Okay,” he said and as if nothing as amiss he went up to the counter paid for his book. The man with the dark hair and dark eyes who was definitely not James Bond was still in the shop.

<><><>

Safehouse Two was one-bedroom flat in the Moabit neighborhood of Berlin. The neighborhood was undergoing gentrification, so Q’s curly hair and glasses weren’t out of place among the university students and artists. He’d let James handle his tail but still took a few extra trains to get out to the safehouse.

Q was frankly a little annoyed by all of this. His hotel room had undoubtable been ransacked or would be soon and while he had his tablet with him it meant he wouldn’t be getting his clothes back for a while if at all. Bloody Bond and his interference and his stupid blue eyes and chiseled jawline.

Once inside the flat, Q took off his jacket. It had been a little too warm for it, but it had been in his bag all day which meant he would be harder to identify with it on. With that he sat down and waited, listening for someone to come up for the door. After another fifteen minutes the door did open and even though Q was sure it was James, he still lunged for the gun that he knew was strapped under the coffee table.

James appeared in the hallway, glasses and beany gone and his long coat had been exchanged for the light down one. He had a crooked smile that shouldn’t be so charming, especially when Q had a loaded gun pointed at his chest.

“I’ve already made the mistake of asking if you know how to use that, so I’ll just politely ask you to put that down.”

Q lowered the gun, clicked on the safety, and set it down. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

James lowered himself into a chair across the room from Q and took off his coat. “You remember the Tesco incident a few months ago?”

As if Q was likely to forget it. He had to find a new Tesco which ended up being further from his flat. Q nodded and started dismantling the gun, setting the parts out on the coffee table and pulling out a glasses cleaning cloth from his pocket and started cleaning the parts of the gun while he listened.

“We were wondering how those sorts of weapons got into the country. I tracked them to an arms dealing group in the Czech Republic, I was going to take of it when I discovered they wanted to go after you. I don’t know if they identified that you were at the hostage incident or they just found out that a high-ranking government official was on the continent for vacation. Either way, they want to hold you for ransom. Now, I need to get you and the information back to London safely.”

Q had finished putting the gun back together by the time James was finished talking and the agent was staring at his hands and had shifted in his seat, tugging at his jeans a little like they were suddenly too tight. Q smirked.

“Alright. Well, let’s do one thing at a time. You said you needed me to decrypt something. I can send it on to HQ and then we have one less thing to worry about.” Having that decided, he stood and found the laptop that, like the gun, was stashed in the apartment.

James didn’t say anything in protest and simply handed Q the flash drive he had retrieved before disappearing into the kitchen. Ten minutes later he reappeared and set a glass of wine down next to Q. Q would have said they shouldn’t drink while on mission but he was technically on vacation and if he was going to have to spend the night in this apartment with James Bond, at the very least he was going to need a glass of wine.

After an hour Q had decrypted the information on the flash drive and sent it to MI6 in London. Q let out a breath and leaned back in his chair, stretching a little.

“Good. Just in time for dinner.” A voice said behind him and Q turned around with a frown.

“You can cook?”

James laughed, warm and lovely. “Yes, Q, I can cook. Come on. I managed to scrape together enough ingredients for penne arrabbiata.”

This peaks Q’s interest and he followed James into the kitchen. There was a small wooden table with two chairs and Q was fairly certain he’d seen the whole thing at Ikea last time he was there. The table was set for two and Q was strangely disappointed that James hadn’t set it up with candles and a bottle of wine like a real date.

 _Jesus, get a pull yourself together_ , he thought as he sat down and tried to stomp down on the warm feeling into his chest when James set a bowl of pasta in front of him and offers him more wine. Q nodded and tried to parse the warm feeling in his stomach. He tried to tell himself that it was just the wine and the adrenaline and slightly spicy sauce but…

Jesus Christ, was he in love with James Bond? Had he actually allowed this man to wiggle in his way into Q’s life until he was inescapable? Worse than that, Q didn’t feel the need to run away from this feeling. Q looked forward for the next time James would barge into his life or his office or his flat. He wanted this man in his life. For better or for worse.

Q remembered the young man in the H&M all those years ago and how he had wanted to leave this life behind. Now, Q one of the executives at MI-bloody-6. He’s either come a long way or fallen very very far.

James noticed that Q was lost in thought and chose to break the silence with a self-deprecating, “Is my cooking not up to par?”

“No,” Q said, a little absently, shaking his head. “I mean, no, the food is fine. Good even. But I was thinking about what you said, outside of Tesco. You said there was nothing wrong with me. That I was dangerous. You said it like it was a good thing.”

“In this line of work, it is.”

“I was supposed to go work for a start-up. Not the government.”

“After you’d made a career of hacking other governments.”

Q was silent.

“Yes, I know I’m not supposed to know about that, but you make me very curious.”

“I can see why you were her favorite.”

If anyone one else had been looking, they would have missed James’ sad smile.

“She liked you too. She knew you, like she knew me. And she knew you were made for this job. You would have been wasted anywhere else. Maybe there is something wrong with us, there probably is, but you’re made for this, Q. And you’re the best of us. I’ve been doing this a long time and I’ve never met anything like you.”

Q ducked his head so James wouldn’t see him blush. “Now, you’re just trying to flatter me.”

“No, if I was trying to flatter you, I’d tell you look sexy in those glasses.”

Q snorted and couldn’t help but laugh a little.

Q insisted on doing the dishes once they were finished with dinner. When he stepped back into the hallway outside the kitchen, James was leaning against the wall, holding his now empty wine glass. “I was thinking we should go to bed. We have an early flight in the morning.”

Q nodded, the air suddenly charged. He followed James into the small bedroom, and they undressed to their undershirts and boxers, each on either side of the queen size bed, not facing each other.

Q didn’t have to be looking at James to know he was there, and he couldn’t help but remember the night they shared in his own apartment. This energy felt almost different. Less sexual but just as gravitating.

They both slipped under the covers at the same time, neither making the offer to sleep on the sofa because they both knew the other would refuse. Q turned on his side and found James right there, staring back at him. His blue eyes bright even in the darkness of the room.

Q let out a shaking a breath, sticking his arm out and running his fingers over James’ scared chest. The agent mirrored his position, just like he did the last night they had spent together. He touched the smooth, pale skin of Q’s arm.

“Okay,” Q whispered, sounding shockingly like that day on the tube platform. Like he had just decided something.

“Okay,” James echoed, and Q closed his eyes and fell asleep.

<><><>

There was literally no reason to assume that this was going to go smoothly. The closer they got to the airfield outside Potsdam, the more on edge James got. Q could feel all the muscles in his body coiling tight like a cat arching his back and puffing their tail at the slightest noise.

There was a small plane waiting for them and a MI6 pilot sitting in the cockpit, ready to take off. Q was halfway up the staircase, James a step behind him, when the screeching of tires alerted them that something was off. They both turned and that was when the gun fire started.

Two cars stopped on the tarmac and six men got out of them, one was shouting orders in Czech. James immediately pulled his gun and started to fire, being careful with his shots because he would run out of ammo eventually.

“Q, get in the plane, get out of here.” James ordered, already starting to descend the stairs.

“No, there’s too many. The odds are terrible.” Q protested but he knew it was usual and that frankly, if anyone could make it out of this, was James Bond. Still, he grabbed James’ sleeve and wouldn’t let him walk away.

“Go,” James almost growled, firing off another shot. He turned and looked at Q who could only see his blue eyes in that moment, the way he saw them in Regent’s Park all those years ago. They held brilliance and humor and trauma and danger Q ached to know this man so much he could hardly breathe.

James pulled Q into a searing, movie-ending, heart-breaking kiss. “Go,” he said again when he had pulled away, Q dazed and looking around a little like he was waiting to discover he was in an alternative, and much gayer, version of Casablanca

But this wasn’t a movie and James was descending the stairs, firing off shots while making his way back to the car where there were extra bullets. Q scrambled up into the plane and closed the door, barely able to get into a seat before the pilot was taking off.

<><><>

Q went to MI6 headquarters upon landing back in London. They haven’t heard anything about 007 and Q was asked to debrief M, Tanner, and Eve on what he knew and then was sent home. No news was probably good news. If he was died, they would know by now. A missing James Bond was pretty typical at this point.

Q went back to his flat, though he took the long way and walked through Regent’s Park, which was probably a bit masochistic. If James was fine and had just gone dark, he was going to be pissed. You can’t kiss a man like that and then disappear.

Q entered his flat and was not immediately greeted by his cats which was odd and sent his hackles up. He crept further into the flat, about to hit the panic button when he saw the back of a blond hair and broad shoulders sitting on his living room floor, holding a plastic stick with a ribbon attached to it, letting the cats pounce on it and then dragging it away.

Q dropped his bag on the floor which made the figure turn, blue eyes meeting Q’s and he let out a breath.

“You’re alive.”

“Now who’s underestimating whom?”

James stood up and walked over to Q, blue eyes smiling down at him.

“Shut up,” Q said and kissed James Bond, throwing his arms around the man’s neck, holding him tightly as James wrapped an arm around his waist and practically lifted him off his feet.

“Stay,” Q breathed against James’ lips.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it!


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